Loaded Assignment
by Elven Moon
Summary: Victor and Anita pose as a wealthy couple to recover a long lost U.Z.Z. treasure. But one of them is enjoying the experience more than they should. VxA.


**AN:** To explain any confusion, I've decided to have certain words written with the American term, but spoken in the British term. For example, I could write "They went to the cafeteria" but then have someone say "They don't have much to eat left at the canteen." Why? Because the show seems to flip flop with the words they want to use, at least as it aired on Nicktoons Network. I swear some words were said one way, and then months and a re-air later, it was back to the British word. So I thought it would be cute to mix the two. It's probably stupid. Anyway, on to the story!

* * *

There was an exclusive air about the place, filled with bubbling champagne and polite, controlled merriment. People of average income could never even hope to peer through the windows of the stately manor, let alone step inside. The fancy clothes worn by the guests could easily be traded to pay off a mortgage or feed a family of ten for a year. Luckily for one Anita Knight and Victor Volt, they had permission to enter this place - but not as themselves.

To really pull off the look, they were arriving in style; a long and expertly polished black limo, complete with TV and mini fridge, which Victor took full advantage of. While he enjoyed the antics of fictional characters, Anita chose to add last minute touches to her hair and makeup. After all, she was supposed to be a lady of high class, and mistakes could be fatal if anyone cared to look close enough.

"I do wish you would take this more seriously," Anita said, scolding her partner and applying soft pink lipstick to herself at the same time.

"Oh, come on Anita, we don't have to put up an act until we get there," Victor argued, digging his hand into a bag of cookies. "And besides, there's going to be so many people, who will really notice us?"

Anita's communicator, situated right next to her, came to life, and a voice entered the conversation. "Listen to Anita, Victor." It was Professor Professor. "This is a very important assignment _und_ we can't afford to try this again if it fails."

"Yeah, yeah." The young agent quickly decided to change the subject. "What are our names supposed to be again?"

"You are Vector _und_ Anitaline Lotsabuckington..."

Victor interrupted. "Vector? My name is Vector? Did you even _try_ to be creative?"

Professor Professor cleared his throat, clearly annoyed. "Your job is to recover the precious punch bowl diamond, said to add a distinct flavor to any drink once put inside. It's been missing for years _und_ we finally located it at this... location."

Tugging at his bow tie, Victor turned to look out the window, as if fascinated by some unknown object in the darkening sky. "Well, I'll just be happy when this is over and I can take this stupid thing off."

Anita rubbed her lips together, finished with her task, and smiled. "I think you look very smart, Victor. Very distinguished."

He snapped his head in her direction. "Do you really think so?"

"Absolutely."

With that, they arrived at the manor, and all talk of U.Z.Z. and anything closely related stopped for the moment. However, just before Anita stowed her communicator away in a safe place, Professor Professor whispered, "Remember, you're supposed to be married, so stay together."

Anita carefully climbed out of the car, taking a moment to try to straighten any wrinkles out of her rented gown as Victor gaped at the scenery around him, clearly not used to such a sight. But this was no time to look like fresh meat, especially when you were supposed to be established old money, so Anita slipped her arm around his and urged "Vector Lotsabuckington" forward.

"Let's go, Victor."

Victor let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. "I'm with you, Anita."

Before they could get in, they had to get cleared by a butler standing next to the large oak doors in front.

"Hello, my good man," Victor said, doing his very best to sound snotty. "Anitaline and I are most excited for this party. We've been speaking of nothing else for weeks, haven't we, dear?"

"Very true, darling." Anita gave a prize winning grin, still holding firm to Victor's arm.

The butler wasn't impressed. "Invitation?"

"Oh, of course." Victor fumbled for a card hiding in his jacket pocket and handed it over. After a few seconds of scanning, the other man seemed to approve (it was still a mystery how they even managed to get an invitation; Professor Professor wouldn't share the details) and opened the doors for them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Vector Lotsabuckington," the butler loudly proclaimed. They were past the point of escape now, no turning back for anything in the world.

Not very long after entering the undercover couple were approached by the esteemed host of the event. Victor was the first to speak. "Ah, Mr. Sippingwell, you look... well."

The older man had the look of someone who had spent most of his career behind a desk, telling others what to do while silently counting his millions. He was very well tailored with graying brown hair and, though a tad pudgy around the middle, it somehow complimented him. "Mr... Vector was it? How nice to meet you. I dare say I've never seen you before. What is it that you do?"

"Uh..." Victor coughed and discreetly looked at a small marking on his hand. "I... my grandfather invented those little plastic things you put on the tips of shoelaces."

Mr. Sippingwell's eyes lit up in belief. "And where would society be without those, eh? Well, it was nice meeting you and your lovely wife. Have a splendid time."

"A pleasure," Anita softly responded. As soon as he was safely away, she turned to her "husband." "OK, we need to split up and start looking for the diamond. This is a very large room and it could be anywhere."

"But Professor Professor said not to separate."

She shrugged off Victor's concern. "We'll be fine as long as we stay in character. If you need me, I won't be far."

There was no time to argue and no time could be wasted, so each agent made their way slowly through the socialites, who seemed more concerned with business deals and trips around the world chatter to pay much attention. That was definitely a good thing. Now alone, both would be cornered if confronted with an unexpected question the other couldn't step in and confirm or correct.

"May I have everyone's attention?" Mr. Sippingwell said, voice booming. Everybody stopped what they were doing; even the hired help didn't dare make a sound when their employer spoke. "I believe it's time for our couples to come together for a special dance. My dear friend, Composer Composer, made a lovely little song for this very occasion."

"Composer Composer?" Victor said aloud to nobody in particular. "Is he a cousin of Professor Professor or something?"

"Probably."

Victor turned to his right. "Oh, Anita." He sighed. "Did you have any luck?"

She shook her head. "There must be fifty punch bowls in here, it's incredible. We don't even know if the diamond is in this room. With all these people around, it could take hours to be sure."

Victor gripped his bow tie nervously. "Hoo boy."

"Don't fuss, Victor, you're messing it all up. Here," she walked up to him and gently straightened the crooked black bow. He paused to watch, a slight blush forming on his cheeks.

"Uh... thanks."

"I say, Mr. Lotsabuckington, are you not going to dance with your wife?" a balding man with a spectacle over his left eye asked them. He was a lot more gruff in voice and looked as though he was really questioning their validity of being there.

Victor flinched. "Well, you see, I just recovered from an unfortunate foot surgery, and the doctor said-"

"We were just about to do that. Come along, darling," Anita forcefully (yet not so hard that any bruises might form later) pulled him over to the middle of the room where several people had already gathered. The orchestral music was just entering its first notes.

"But Anita," Victor protested, "I don't know how to dance this way." Dancing was definitely a big part of what they did, it was almost second nature to an U.Z.Z. employee. Somehow, in all of that, ballroom dancing had never come up.

"Just follow my lead and it will work out. Promise." She patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Now, just place one hand on my back, and give me your other hand." He did so.

Soon enough they'd found their "groove" and wistfully moved across the marble floor, Victor occasionally bumping into things and muttering "So sorry." Anita couldn't help but giggle when this happened; he was such a klutz sometimes. Just as Victor was about to dip Anita, he stopped, seemingly shocked by something.

It was no secret in a world full of them that Anita was one of the, if not the, prettiest girls at U.Z.Z. Her long hair, usually styled to look like something straight out of the 1960s, was pulled up into soft, blond curls. The skirt of her purple gown (meant to compliment her eyes) swayed with each step, painting the perfect picture of elegance. The glazed and mesmerized shine in Victor's eyes revealed that she was more than simply pretty tonight - she was beautiful. Perhaps it was the atmosphere or mood, but once he'd noticed he couldn't stop staring, and stepped on her feet a few times because of it.

"Be careful, Victor," she said with disapproval.

Victor blinked, bringing himself back to reality. "Sorry. It's just that... I don't know if I mentioned it yet, but you look really nice tonight."

Anita smiled. "Thanks, Victor." Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Sippingwell sneaking out (as well as a person with no training in the art of ninja could) into a doorway with no guests nearby to witness. "I see our host has decided to leave the party. We should follow him and see if he leads us to the target."

"But Anita... couldn't we dance for just a little bit longer?"

The longing in his voice was missed by the young woman. She shook her head and frowned. "We have a job to do, Victor, we didn't come to play."

"OK, OK," her partner whined childishly, and reluctantly followed in the task at hand.

~*~

The hallway was long and narrow, and the only escape from the excessively decorated, almost bragging walls were large windows draped in fine cloth. Anita's high heels tapped loudly, almost screaming for them to get caught. Thankfully, there was no sign of life unless you counted plants. However, this also meant they'd lost the rich tycoon.

"Which way did he go?" asked Victor.

"I don't know... oh, if only I'd managed to get a tracking device on him somehow."

"Wait a second... do you hear something?" Sticking his arm off to the side to block Anita from walking any farther, Victor then cupped his free hand over his ear, as though this would actually help him hear better.

They followed the phantom sound to a door about forty feet away, a small golden plaque announcing the room on the other side as being the homeowner's study. It was open - not enough to see more than some blurry colors, but sound could definitely travel out.

Mr. Sippingwell was inside, another member of the house staff holding a tin tray with a filled glass resting on top.

"Ah, Chumsley, I always look forward to my evening drink. Especially during one of my fantastic parties."

"Yes, Sir," replied Chumsley, who sounded like he'd rather be in bed than humoring anyone.

"Do remember to add that special little ingredient that really gives it that punch." In the servant's other hand rested a silver tong, which held what looked to be a normal, small block of ice. But if one looked more closely, they would see it didn't have that certain watery shine, and wouldn't melt even in the hottest cup of tea. It had to be...

"The punch bowl diamond," Victor and Anita said at the same time.

"Where did you say you found this, Chumsley?" Sippingwell inquired, who didn't appear to have heard their small outburst.

"... the icebox, Sir."

"No, before that."

Now that they'd seen the lost precious stone, there was still the matter of actually getting their hands on it. No matter who they were, a person could not simply waltz in and ask for it. Then again, maybe they could.

"Follow me," Victor said firmly to Anita. He puffed out his chest, slicked his hair back and quietly brushed imaginary dust on his sleeves. Anita gave him a semi-friendly shove to hurry things up. It wasn't like time grew on trees.

"I couldn't help but notice that... thing you have there, Mr. Sippingwell." They calmly entered, Victor struggling in vain to continue sticking out his chest like a proud bird.

The businessman looked surprised for a second, then reverted back to gracious master of the house. "May I help you with anything?"

"My husband and I were just admiring your home," Anita said, moving on to add, "we heard you talking about a special drink ingredient and decided to see what it might be." She pointed at the cube, which had just been plopped inside the glass unceremoniously."Is that it?"

Mr. Sippingwell nodded. "It is indeed, lovely madam. A pride and joy of mine, if you will."

Victor pretended to reach into his pocket for a checkbook. "Would you consider selling it to us? I can pay you cutely."

"Do you mean handsomely, Mr. Vector?"

"In my case... it's not very far off."

Victor persisted stubbornly. "Name your price. You can fill out a blank check and cash it... in about three hundred years."

Anita pulled him aside and lowered her voice a few notches. "Don't be ridiculous, we can't buy back something that was originally stolen from us!"

The smart blond was right, of course. They both stopped to ponder the options, knowing every second either hesitated, the treasure holder might suspect something.

Then, a light bulb went off in Victor's head. "I think I have a plan." Anita shook her head. "No?"

"No, Victor, we are not grabbing it and making a run for it. Professor Professor said our exit had to be smooth."

"How about if I ask him to trade with me for a mint condition, number one issue of Captain Awesome Man?"

"Double no."

"Is anything wrong?" Sippingwell asked.

Victor jumped to the rescue. "No, no, everything is fine. In fact, uh... Anitaline, stay with our friend while I make an urgent phone call to our... accountant."

He wasn't gone long, perhaps two or three minutes, but when he returned you could've powered a lamp with his bright smile. "Mr. Sippingwell, I'm prepared to offer you three million for your little magic cube."

'What are you doing?!' is what Anita seemed to be asking judging by the look on her face. Victor responded to this with a wink, drawing even further confusion.

"Hmm... I _could_ use another pile in my money room. I do believe you have a deal." They shook hands to finalize it. "I can always pay somebody to get me a new one."

"Good, good," Victor said, "I'll have someone drop off the payment by the end of the night."

~*~

The ride back was much more relaxing, now that their job was out of the way. After Victor had slipped the man at the door one whole pound (which he received quite a perplexed look for), they made as quick an exit to the waiting car as possible. Anita had the diamond wrapped in fire-proof cloth, watching it carefully in case somebody was planning to steal it back (a good agent, as she was once told when she was still working up in the ranks, always expects trouble).

"I hope you know what you're doing, Victor," Anita said, settling back into her spot from earlier. "Because I sure don't."

Victor made himself completely and improperly (at least to the standards of where they'd just spent the last few hours) comfortable before attempting to reassure her. "Trust me, the 'drop-off' will be any minute now and everything will be fine."

She reached over and rapped him on the shoulder. "Of what? They'll come after us, you know, when they find out we don't have the money to give them. And, if you do recall, I did say we shouldn't pay for it."

"Who said it was going to be money?"

Anita frowned, holding the small roll of cloth to her chest. "What? What else could it be?"

Just then, the tinted window separating the passengers from the driver rolled down, and Agent Ray's distinct voice flowed in. "It's all ready, Victor."

"Excellent." Victor rubbed his hands together like a thrilled madman.

His female coworker was about to shake the answer out of him when the sound of something falling reached her ears. She turned to look out the window on her side to see a huge brown bag land in the front yard of the manor (they weren't all that close anymore, but it was hard to miss), filled with various colored candy.

"Like I said," Victor confirmed her realization, "I didn't say it would be cash."

Only then did she smile. "You are absolutely crazy. I have to admit, though, that was pretty clever. Where did you even get all those sweets?"

"Hmm... let's just say I have a lot of storage space."

They shared a chuckle for a few moments, not exploring why he would even have such things. "Another secret for the U.Z.Z. files" is what Professor Professor might call it.

"By the way, Victor, when we were dancing you looked rather strange. Were you OK?"

He changed his sitting position anxiously and decided this was the best time to scour the cushy leather seat for lint. "Oh, yes, yes. I was fine, perfectly fine, more than fine."

"If you're sure." She frowned, not entirely convinced, but not willing to get into an argument about it. It was time to contact base, anyway.

Professor Professor was very pleased. "The crystallized carbon is once again in U.Z.Z. hands. Just how did you manage?" They could hear tapping, which meant he was doing his happy dance, complete with novelty hat.

"Well," Anita started, "first we searched the punch bowls, but-"

"You looked in a punch bowl? That's silly!"

Victor arched his eyebrows so high they almost touched his hair. "Yeah, how silly of us to look in what it's _named_ after."

"No, no, no," Professor Professor scolded. "Don't be absurd. Now, if you'll excuse me... hey, Kissy Kissy Goo Goo, guess what Victor _und_ Anita just told me?"

"Why you wicked little man, just wait until we get back..." Anita scowled in disgust at his behavior.

While the threesome ("Kissy Kissy Goo Goo" being Changed Daily) bantered, Victor heaved a deep sigh (which somebody always seemed to do at the end of the day). "At least Alphonse wasn't there," he mumbled just before getting hit by a flying communicator. Then all became black.

* * *

It took me so long to write this story, sorry it came later than planned. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, so if you have suggestions or want to tell me I screwed something up, feel free to share. Feedback isn't exactly required (I'm not going to hijack stories or chapters, come on!), but always appreciated. Thank you for reading and have a Happy Valentine's Day (or Singles Awareness Day, whichever is better for you)!


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